It was frigid outside the abandoned apartment; however, the inside was no better.
Chrollo sat with his back to a degrading wall, admiring the snowfall from the busted window across the room. The moon half hidden behind clouds only gave a small bit of illumination to the white, falling flakes. There wasn't much wind, but a small draft blew its way in from time to time. Chrollo didn't mind since he was more than used to harsh conditions.
Something flickered in the corner of his eye and he lazily looked over. As silent as the snowfall, Silva appeared from the shadows. He paid no mind to the cold as well; wearing his usual attire and bearing the brunt of the chill as though it didn't exist.
"So." Chrollo began. "Why have you called me here?"
Silva sat beside the man with an arm over his knee.
"You're quite relaxed." Silva stated bluntly.
The younger smirked as he slowly turned to face the other.
"Not going to answer my question?"
"Still the same as when we last met." Silva responded, closing his eyes.
At that, Chrollo mirrored Silva's position and raised his knee, draping an arm across it. Together they appeared completely at ease.
"You want something from me." Chrollo said. It was more of a statement, but the curiosity was still in his voice.
"I do."
"Well then, what is it that you want?" Chrollo asked.
Silva looked down to him, meeting the other's smirking face. The younger looked as though he knew a secret and was rather smug about it. His dark eyes seemed to tell a hundred different stories and for a single instant, Silva was lost in them.
Chrollo found himself staring into the other's icy gaze. His eyes were like a dragon's, bearing down representing a fierce presence. The cold of the outside was nothing compared to how he felt when staring at them. He wanted to keep staring.
As Silva spoke again, Chrollo blinked, realizing that he was much closer than before.
"You're a boy without any morals aren't you?" he asked.
Chrollo didn't lessen the space between them, but replied while still gazing at the other.
"Those things don't mean anything to me. So why should I care about them?"
"You know, you would have made a fine Zoaldyk." Silva paused, sighing. "Fate can be a cruel thing."
The dark haired man tilted his head and idly ran his fingers through slicked back hair.
"I don't know, I rather like being a thief."
Silva gently touched the tip of Chrollo's chin, tilting it upwards.
"You've stolen something of mine." He breathed.
"Oh? I don't recall doing that. I'm sure I'd remember if I did."
"Don't play coy." Silva warned. His voice wasn't threatening, though his presence suddenly became quite bearing. His strong, muscled hand cupped the side of Chrollo's face as he brushed a thumb against his lip.
"Why me?"
Silva smirked and brought his lips down upon the other's own, enjoying the feeling for a few seconds. Chrollo didn't protest, nor did he make any movement besides breathing.
"Because…" Silva whispered. "You've stolen something of mine."
"And that was?"
The silver haired man pulled Chrollo closer.
"My attention."